


Pecans In Budapest

by ineffablefool



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: (Aziraphale is very round and very lovely thank you and good day), Angst, Asexual Relationship, But light angst I think, Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Kissing, Love Confessions, Miscommunication, No Sex, No Smut, Other, Pining, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22988932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineffablefool/pseuds/ineffablefool
Summary: Cold out here tonight.  It would be cozy in the shop, tucked away in the back room with wine and company.  With a comfortable seat on the ancient sofa, and an angel across the way.Demons weren’t supposed to sit on angels’ sofas and drink their wine and love them with quiet desperation, but that was okay.  They’d both of them done a lot of things they weren’t supposed to over the years.(Crowley pines.  Then he doesn't, because -- wait, what?  Since *when* now?)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 69
Kudos: 304
Collections: Aspec-friendly Good Omens





	Pecans In Budapest

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to the Soft Zone(TM)!
> 
> Today's fic started out as one thing, then I realized it wasn't going to be that thing, and then it became a particular flavor of "Crowley pines over Aziraphale until suddenly he doesn't need to anymore" which you have probably read before. However, probably nobody who's done the idea before has ever done it Soft Zone(TM) style, so here we are! Romantic, asexual, fat-positive, and all of them turned up to 12. Let's do this.
> 
> **Content warning:** the word "fat" is used throughout, but always lovingly.
> 
> (This does not take place in Budapest and doesn't really have anything to do with pecans. It was just a phrase to pick to slap on as a title. Also -- Budapest was not named Budapest in the 17th century. Let's just assume that supernatural entities don't always bother to keep track of these things.)
> 
> I'm writing for the TV characterization, but I've decided that my written Aziraphale is visibly fat. Tumblr and AO3 user Squeegeelicious has created [this absolutely gorgeous artwork](https://ineffablefool.tumblr.com/post/189282541139/squeegeelicious-a-walk-to-the-ritz-for) for my first human AU [If Not Now, When](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20936816), which should help you know what to visualize as you read!

The windows glowed, warm and golden. Only the lamps, of course, but Crowley liked to pretend it wasn’t. Liked to think it was the soft presence inside.

Cold out here tonight. It would be cozy in the shop, tucked away in the back room with wine and company. With a comfortable seat on the ancient sofa, and an angel across the way.

Demons weren’t supposed to sit on angels’ sofas and drink their wine and love them with quiet desperation, but that was okay. They’d both of them done a lot of things they weren’t supposed to over the years.

He breezed through the door, which was locked but let him in anyway, and then he was in the glow. Warm in here, just as he’d expected. Even warmer, the voice that called his name. The eyes that smiled up from a book as he approached.

“Aziraphale,” he said. “Nah, ‘sfine. Don’t get up.”

The book thudded closed. “Oh, don’t you sass me, you old thing.” Aziraphale set his reading aside, then reached for the bottle already set out on the table. Two glasses, too. Always ready, now, whenever Crowley visited. “This is a very lovely Château Latour I’ve selected for tonight, and I don’t want to regret sharing it with you.”

“You regretting means I’m doing my job.” Crowley dropped back onto the sofa, letting his various limbs settle as they would. “Spreading foment, and all. Discontent.”

“I’m afraid you might want to look for a new job, then, since you’re doing rather poorly at this one. I’m not sure I’ve ever been more content.”

Aziraphale smiled perfectly calmly as he said it. As he uncorked the wine, delicately pouring out two glasses’ worth.

He rose from his chair, offering Crowley his wine as if him saying things like that was just the done thing. Which it was, in these months since the airbase. Didn’t mean Crowley was used to it. So many sweet words, now, and little endearments, and smiles that almost seemed to mean something.

Aziraphale was just so blessed beautiful, as he bent down to hand off the glass. Hair a pale cloud like always, curling around his head, around his soft smiling face. The fingers that didn’t quite brush Crowley’s were plump and perfect. Like that all over, he was, heavy arms under his sleeves, and round shoulders and chest, and broad curve of belly that pressed against his waistcoat as he leaned over, resting gently on the soft swell of his thighs.

“Mnuh,” Crowley replied. He swirled the wine around under his nose. Earthy.

“How was your trip up to Edinburgh? Temptation failed horribly, I do hope.” Aziraphale settled back in his own comfortable chair. It hadn’t been that wide, when he’d bought it for his newly-opened shop. He’d had to miracle it into being just the right size for his corporation. Which had already been just the right size, of course. Fat and round and perfect in the amount of space it took up.

“Not a temptation.”

“Oh? A cursing, then?” Aziraphale’s blue eyes gleamed at him above the rim of his wineglass. “Did some poor Scotsman’s shoelaces need tying together?”

_I adore you_. Crowley had centuries of experience in not saying the words. Very good at not saying them after all that practice. _You’re wonderful and you’re beautiful and I adore everything you are._

“Very serious business, it was. Demon stuff. Wouldn’t interest you, angel.”

Aziraphale uttered a polite little laugh of disbelief, and Crowley did an excellent job of not saying _I read there was a bakery making kürtoskalács from someone’s great-grandmother’s authentic 17th-century recipe. Had to check it out for you. Bollocks, of course. They’re using **pecans**. Never had any kürtoskalács with pecans back in Budapest_.

“All very sinister.” He sipped his wine. “Very spooky.”

“No doubt.”

He’d thought, in those first few days, that it was... well. What he’d wanted. What he’d longed for. He’d grabbed Aziraphale’s hand one night when they were walking back from the Ritz. Had been shivering so hard that it might have been the depths of winter, and not a soft late-August evening at all.

Aziraphale had looked shocked for the first half-second, but then his face had melted into concern. “Oh, my dear,” he’d said gently. Pulling his hand out from Crowley’s trembling grasp. “You don’t... have to do that. I understand.”

So it wasn’t what he’d longed for after all. Aziraphale wasn’t in love with him.

Now, several months since that realization, Crowley pulled a small package from his back pocket and tossed it across the space between them. At least he hadn’t come back completely empty-handed. “Here. You won’t want to share these, so that’ll be some proper greed for me to feel good about.”

He paused. “Well. Not _good_ good. You know what I mean.”

“Oh, _Crowley_.” Aziraphale had the packet of waxed paper opened by now. He beamed down at the two very fresh-looking plum dumplings which were not at all mashed despite being in Crowley’s pocket for the entire trip back from Edinburgh. “Why, I haven’t had szilvás gombóc since... oh, since that cafe closed in the 80s, I suppose. They were simply delicious, do you remember?”

Crowley remembered. They’d been able to get together once a year or so, back in those dark days. Aziraphale had had them meet at the cafe twice. Crowley knew very well just how delicious these potatoey little things apparently were.

“Thank you, dearest.”

Aziraphale stood, for some reason, beaming down at him. He stepped across the space between his chair and the sofa.

He sat down next to Crowley. Right there, close enough that his soft leg nearly touched Crowley’s hip. If Crowley lowered the arm he’d draped along the back of the sofa, it would fall across Aziraphale’s shoulders. He could pull Aziraphale closer, then. If he dared. Pull all of him down to pillow on his own thin chest, warm and heavy and beautiful.

He didn’t dare. He didn’t _breathe_. Just looked at Aziraphale from behind his sunglasses, not moving. Waiting.

“Please do have one, Crowley. They’ll be delicious, I’m sure, but —” Aziraphale’s smile widened even more. He held out the unwrapped dumplings, ducking his head for a moment, soft chin deepening its crease. “I do think some things are better, well. Shared.” His eyes seemed to search for Crowley’s. “Don’t you?”

Crowley’s mouth opened. Closed. “But the greed,” he said, finally. “You should eat both. I don’t, don’t need...”

Was it safe to admit? Maybe it was the kind of thing Aziraphale would like hearing, in this strange new not-ended world. Since he’d started doing things like saying Crowley made him _content_.

“I need to see that you’re happy.” He grimaced at how the words sounded, leaving his demon’s throat. Rough and harsh. “See you eat them, and enjoy them... see I’ve done something to make you happy. Like I want to keep doing for.” The word _forever_ wouldn’t leave his lips. Different feel to it than when humans said it. Different, being immortal and still meaning it. “Anyway. That’s all.”

Seemed like that was the kind of thing Aziraphale liked hearing, now. His eyes were very bright. His smile was huge, round cheeks gone sweetly rosy. And his voice was barely above a murmur, as he leaned closer, all the more perfectly lined up for Crowley to take him in his arm if only he dared to move it from the back of the sofa.

“Darling,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley shivered.

Aziraphale pulled back, then. “Ah — I am terribly sorry —”

He set the dumplings down on the table. No one was eating them now.

Crowley tried to swallow the question, as Aziraphale moved away from him on the sofa. He’d never been good at not asking before, though, and apparently that hadn’t changed even when so much around him had. “Why do you — do that?”

Aziraphale tilted his head, brows furrowed.

“Apologize. Like you think I —”

Silence. Horrible silence.

“Like you think I _dislike_ the idea of. Of touching you.” He hated the broken note in his own voice. “Or being touched.”

The silence went on another few lifetimes, and then Aziraphale leaned back toward him, just a bit. “But, Crowley... don’t you?”

Crowley wondered, just for a second, whether he’d lost the ability to comprehend speech.

“You shook so hard, that night you tried to hold my hand.” Aziraphale laced his fingers together in his lap. “That was when I realized. I’d wondered why you hadn’t done anything before, even though now we were together — why every time I tried to hold _your_ hand, you ignored it —”

Ignored. There’d been something to ignore? When had Aziraphale ever tried to —

“But we love each other, my treasure. And that’s all that matters.” Shining eyes looked up at him. “I’d be yours ten thousand years and never touch you once, and count myself more lucky than words can tell.”

Crowley let his mind work on this for a few more seconds.

“We,” he posited. “We’ve been — together — since August?”

“Of course.” Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “Don’t _tell_ me you forgot what we said to each other in your flat, after everything — oh, I know we were still afraid to speak clearly, but even what little we could say was very meaningful to me, and I daresay it should have been to you.”

Crowley shuddered out a breath. “I remember. Won’t ever not remember.” The second point of his new realization loomed nearer. “We’ve been together, but we haven’t — touched — because you thought _I_ didn’t want to.”

Aziraphale nodded.

“...but you want to?”

Aziraphale nodded again.

Crowley’s heart stumbled in his chest. Righted itself easily enough, though, as he removed his sunglasses. Set them on the table next to the dumplings. He rasped out the words. “I love you.”

Aziraphale beamed. “I know, darling.”

Crowley lowered his arm from the back of the sofa, letting it curl around Aziraphale’s shoulders. “You... you love me too?”

“I’m not entirely sure I wasn’t already in love with you by the Bastille.” Aziraphale _melted_ under his arm as he spoke, snuggling closer, beautiful eyes closing before shooting open again. “Oh, but you don’t have to —”

Crowley wrapped his other arm around Aziraphale’s waist. “ _Want_ to,” he said, and pulled his angel down to pillow on his chest.

His angel made a joyful little sound, a rich hum that Crowley could actually feel through his own chest. Cuddled up to him without any hesitation. Crowley held tightly, arms filled up with Aziraphale, with warm fat beautiful Aziraphale, and kissed him right on his soft sweet beautiful mouth.

Aziraphale kissed him back. 

Time passed, probably, a couple of eternities of Aziraphale pressed heavy against him, lips gentle on his, kissing and whispering to him and kissing again. Crowley drew his fingers through Aziraphale’s cloud-fluff hair. Ran his hands over Aziraphale’s perfect rolling curves. Cupped Aziraphale’s round cheeks, his soft chin, in palms that trembled as Aziraphale caught his mouth once again.

Crowley shivered as Aziraphale’s own pudgy hands touched him every bit as tenderly.

"Darling,” Aziraphale laughed, as Crowley began covering his face in kisses. “Oh, my treasure — my only one, my heart — I don’t understand —”

“Went to Edinburgh just for you,” Crowley said, and kissed one precious cheek. “No cursings, no temptations. ‘Less we count you as one of the second thing, which, for the record, I do.”

“What — _Crowley_ —”

“Had to check out the hot new Hungarian expat bakery, didn’t I? See if it was worth you. The kürtoskalács had bloody _pecans_ , though, so that was no good, not for you. Only the best for my angel.” Something in his chest flared up, white-hot and joyous. “ _My angel_ ,” he repeated, half-mumbled against Aziraphale’s temple.

“Of _course_ I’m yours,” Aziraphale said, sounding so exasperated that Crowley couldn’t resist kissing his pretty forehead. “Surely this isn’t _news_ to you, you ridiculous —”

He stopped. Peered a little closer at Crowley (then squeezed his eyes shut and giggled when Crowley kissed his nose). Gently wound his hands into Crowley’s hair, and guided him down until their lips touched, until he hummed happily into this latest kiss, the sound vibrating in Crowley’s heart until it’d shaken his entire corporation to dust.

“Oh, good Lord, it _is_ news.”

“I love you.” Not much experience in saying it, not yet; so the words came out strangely, half-choked, barely more than a mutter when they should’ve been yelled to the stars. “Love you. _Adore_ you.”

“My sweet Crowley.” Aziraphale smoothed a palm down his cheek. “You’re so terribly dear to me.”

Crowley snuggled closer to him. “You’re — you’re wonderful.” He nuzzled against soft white curls. “And you’re beautiful.” His arms tightened around Aziraphale’s perfect belly. “And I adore everything you are.”

Aziraphale leaned into his embrace with a deeply satisfied sigh.

There was more, Crowley realized, an entire novel’s worth of words — maybe an entire bookshop’s worth — which he had never said, had never _allowed_ himself to say. He could say them, now. Over and over again. As many times as it took, until he got them exactly right.

Aziraphale’s hand stroked gently against his back. “Well. I don’t regret sharing that Château Latour with you, so I’m afraid your demonic plans have been foiled there.”

“Foiled,” Crowley agreed.

“And I’m not going to regret sharing the szilvás gombóc with you, either. You will try a bite, won’t you, dear?”

“If you want,” Crowley said. “Whatever you want, angel. My angel.”

Aziraphale’s voice smiled, warm and golden. “My Crowley.”

Crowley smiled too. It was cold out there tonight, and he hadn’t been looking forward to braving it again, whenever he decided to go on home alone. But maybe he wouldn’t, now. Maybe he could just stay here instead.

After all, it was cozy here in the shop, tucked away in the back room with wine and company. With a comfortable seat on the ancient sofa, and his angel curled up, a soft and loving presence, by his side.

**Author's Note:**

> [Kürtőskalács](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/K%C3%BCrt%C5%91skal%C3%A1cs) can apparently also be called a "chimney cake". Walnuts are a much more traditional topping than pecans.
> 
> [Szilvás gombóc](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Knedle) is the name for dumplings made of potato dough and filled with plums.
> 
> I've never had either. I just spend a lot of time googling up foreign desserts for fic-writing purposes.
> 
> Thank you for reading! If you were thinking of leaving a comment, please know that I treasure every single one. I've literally cried a few times reading some of the lovely things people have said, and they really are fuel for my soft little heart -- but never, ever required, so please don't feel pressured. 
> 
> If you want to say hi on Tumblr, I'm [ineffablefool](https://ineffablefool.tumblr.com) there, too.
> 
> I would never actively request art from anyone I wasn't paying, but if you, the human reading this, were to decide it was worth your time to create fanart based on any of my stories, I would be incredibly honored ([and would love to enshrine it forever on my Tumblr](https://ineffablefool.tumblr.com/tagged/ineffablefool-gets-fanart-from-lovely-people))! I have only one requirement: please don't draw Aziraphale any thinner than the size I headcanon (I need both my soft cuddly daydreams, and my positive fat representation). Here are some examples of what that sort of minimum body size/shape might look like: ([beautiful fanart created for me by Squeegeelicious](https://ineffablefool.tumblr.com/post/189282541139/squeegeelicious-a-walk-to-the-ritz-for)) ([speremint 1](https://speremint.tumblr.com/post/186342035100/i-did-this-instead-of-my-hw-ya-girl-is-gonna)) ([speremint 2 from her Reversed Omens AU](https://speremint.tumblr.com/post/186574829700/finally-finally-done-making-these-refs-my)) ([dotstronaut](https://dotstronaut.tumblr.com/post/186740069618/no-really-i-dont-think-you-all-understand-how)) Otherwise, the characters can look however you like!
> 
> I hope you're having a fantastic day.


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